THE FLOWER DOLL

Timaru Herald, Volume CXLV, Issue 21180, 29 October 1938, Page 32 (Supplement)

THE FLOWER DOLL

IN THE HOLLYHOCK GOWN

When Merry was six years old, she moved from the city to a quiet town. Her father was away all day and her mother was always busy, but Merry was never lonely, because she loved the garden so. There were some flowers in the grass and others higher up that looked as if they were made of rose-pink and pearlwhite silk. ‘‘Oh, what kind of flowers are those?” Merry had asked, and “They are hollyhocks,” her mother had replied. “I like them so well,” declared Merry, “that I know I’ll never be happier than I am now.” But the next morning she was happier still. She found a tiny envelope tucked under the door, with her name on it, and as she had never had a real letter before, she carried it excitedly into the house for her mother to read.

“Dear Merry,” the letter said, “I want you to come to my party tomorrow at three. There is to be a prize, so bring your prettiest doll. Your new friend, Clementine.” "Who is my new friend Clementine?” asked Merry. "Is she the one who lives in the big house in the green velvet yard with a fountain and pointed cedar trees? Oh, Mother, read it again.” "So bring your prettiest doll,” her mother read. “Wliis is my prettiest doll? They are all so sweet to me.” “Get them,” suggested her mother, and we shall see.” So Merry brought her four dolls. “Go to your grandmother, children,” she said, as she tumbled them into her mother’s lap. Then she picked out the smallest one and put it aside, sorrowfully, “This one will never do to take. “It's no longer than my thumb.” Next she considered the rubber doll, that was nearly as old as she was, though it had a baby-like face. “He’s too young to go,” she said, “and besides, this morning, when I pulled down his little crocheted dress to warm his feet, it all ravelled out into one long thread." “How about this one?” asked her mother, lifting a large rag doll that, sad to say, was not so very clean. "Oh, Raggymuffin is too freckled with dirt,” said Merry, and grasping a slim pair of black china shoes, she drew forth the last of the dolls. “I think I’ll take Rosylee,” she announced. “She’s got such a nice blue dress.”

“Yes,” answered her mother, "but she hasn’t any head. It was broken when we moved, but you love her so much, you don’t know the difference.”

A big tear rolled down Merry’s cheek. “I think I won’t go at all,” she said. “I wouldn’t want to leave any of them at home.” "Oh, these are not party-dolls," her mother told her, cheerfully, "and they’d probably just as soon

not go. I’ll find you a doll to take to the party, but now I must iron your best white dress.” “It’s no trouble to decide about a dress,” sighed the little girl, "but I can’t bear to separate my dolls.” The next morning the sun came softly across the garden and into the room, where Merry’s little dress hung fresh and white upon a chair, but Merry’s mother had to admit that she hadn’t thought yet what to do about a doll. “If we were in the city,” she said, “we might buy a new head for Rosylee, but I’m afraid we can’t find one here.” "I don’t know that I’d care to, anyway,” sigher Merry. “She wouldn’t seem like herself that way.”

Finally, however, her mother seemed happier and said she believed she knew what she was going to do, and after luncheon, when Merry was all dressed for the party, they went into the garden, where Merry was seated carefully on a bench. “I’m going to make you a doll,” her mother told her. “Her name is to be Miss Polly Hollyhock and she will wear a frilly gown.”

She flitted here and there, and presently she came back and sat down in the grass at her little daughter’s feet. In her hand she carried a seed-pod that she had found in the grass. “This looks like a seed-pod,” she said, “but it is really a doll.” And, as she slit the pod and turned it wrong side out, Merry saw a cunning round head coming into view. “Oh, now I see Miss Polly Hollyhock,” she cried. “She shall have a white hollyhock for a dress and a pink one for a

cape,” the doll-maker said, and as she spoke she fastened the flowers in place with pins from an old thorn tree.

“And why can't she have a grassblade for a sash-ribbon and a rosepetal for a hat?” asked Merry.

“She can,” cried Mother delightedly. “That’s a very good idea.” There were many Interesting games at the party, that afternoon, but the little girls soon left them to play with their dolls on the lawn. There were ice-cream roses and a cake with eight pink candles, but the dolls were the best of all. There were big dolls and little ones, grave dolls and gay, and some that cost a great deal of money indeed, and Clementine’s mother, thinking about it alone in the house, saw that it was going to be very hard to decide which one should have the prize. But she took the pretty box that she had made ready and went into the yard. To her surprise there were no children there. £long a path lay a trail of cast-off dolls, with their grieved faces turned to the sky. She followed the path to the flower garden and saw that the little girls were there picking blossoms from her fine holyyhocks, which grew against the wall. “Why, Clementine,” she said to her daughter, “what are you doing here?” "We're getting flowers,” said Clementine, “to make fairy dolls, like this one of Merry’s. And she is to be the fairy queen.” The lady took Miss Polly Hollyhock in her fingers and looked at her thoughtfully, and then she said, “I have a prize here for the little girl who has brought the prettiest doll and I think you will agree with me that Merry is that little girl.” “Oh, yes, we do,” cried all the children, happily. So Clementine’s mother put the